


D.A.R.E

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [14]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 14:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Spot and Race get stoned one night





	D.A.R.E

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written for these boys in ages so might as well make them high as fuck

Spot took a deep inhale off the joint, deeper than he probably should have, before passing it over to Race.

“Don’t get faded without me Spotty.”

Exhaling through a smile, Spot leaned against Race’s shoulder. His shirt was soft as was his voice. “You’re soft.”

He heard a snicker and turned his head to watch Race cough out some smoke, his head lolling forward  before finally passing it back to Spot. There were probably one, maybe two hits left and they wanted to get rid of it before one of the kids wandered up. Or Crutchie, that one could out smoke either of them and they didn’t have enough for that tonight.

They’d snuck up to the roof of the lodging house about an hour ago, waiting until the littler kids had made themselves scarce before getting a brown bag from under Race’s mattress and booking it up the ladder. It had been a stressful week and Mush knew a guy who was the cousin of a guy in Brooklyn who’d sold Spot the weed.

Sold, in a very liberal sense of the word. Spot Conlon never spent a penny in Brooklyn, and everyone knew it.

Letting his lips curl around the end of the joint, Spot took the smoke in slowly and looked out over the edge of the roof. All the lights in Manhattan really were something. He had to focus his eyes for a few minutes before he could differentiate between them and the stars. 

Everything was buzzing softly but clearly in his head and Race’s own moving to his lap could’ve been a feather. Warm though, warm and heavy for a feather. Yeah, a blonde, curly feather with eyes that were glazed over but bright, looking up at him.

They’d smoked before and Race always got cuddly. He could be awful cute when he was lying on top of an almost serene Spot Conlon, who got quieter and more affectionate than he would ever admit sober.

“You’re cute when you’re high,” Race said. Smoke drifted out of his lips while he spoke, and the joint was flicked away, burned out, onto the concrete next to them. “Pretty.”

Spot barely managed a smile before Race’s hand reached up and lazily pulled at his curls. It felt right and he leaned into the touch, sliding down the wall while Race shifted to lay more or less on his chest. All the blood pumping through his body concentrated on where Race’s head was. He could feel it.

“S’nice Racer.”

Race buried his face in Spot’s shirt and let out a contented sigh. Spot could feel every inhale and exhale against his skin and moved his arms to hold Race in place, not wanting the feeling to stop.

The ground was hard but they were both floating above it so it didn’t matter. The cold didn’t matter either, they just curled into each other and felt their body heat transfer, felt it leave their bones and soak through their skin onto the others seamlessly.

Time passed. Maybe a minute. An hour tops.

“Spot? Race?”

Spot tried to sink further into the concrete and away from all sound but Race shot up, surprisingly nimble, leaving a cold spot where his head had been and a discontented Brooklynite on the ground. “Come back.”

The whine left his lips and Spot hugged his arms closer to himself.

Race stumbled toward Jack, his outline lingering for a moment every time he moved. Seeing it threw Spot into a fit of laughter and he giggled into the cold air. Two Race’s at once and he didn’t even know.

“Jack and Davey!”

His footsteps echoed disjointedly and Jack’s laugh bounced in Spot’s head while his own settled down. Propping himself up on his elbows, he saw Jack pry Race off of him and shove him lightly in Spot’s direction. Davey said nothing and looked at the two of them with crossed arms. He looked like a shadow. 

“You look funny Davey,” Spot said as Race sat down next to him and started playing with Spot’s fingers, Jack and Davey forgotten. “Sound funny too.”

Davey snorted. “You two got high didn’t you?”

Race shook his head clumsily and Spot nodded. They both giggled.

“Unbelievable”

Planting a soft kiss to Race’s temple, Spot let out a deep yawn and turned to lay on his side, keeping Davey and Jack out of his eyeline. The moonlight was casting a shadow across Race’s face and it left him with a soft glow. Maybe it was the weed, maybe not. “Love you Race.”

“It’s not that big of a deal Davey,” Jack said.

Very carefully placing Spot’s hand back in his lap, Race frowned, head turning and fragmenting the shadows, moving so that their foreheads connected and their eyelashes nearly brushed.

His eyes were blue. “I love you Spot.”

He looked so serious and sincere with his eyebrows furrowed together that Spot went in to kiss him, giggling into his mouth. It only encouraged Race, who bit Spot’s lip and let out a peal of giggles himself.

Davey’s voice was far away from the two of them, or one of them. Spot had shoved his hands under Race’s shirt as Race’s wormed under his and curled around his shoulder blades. A knife couldn’t have cut them apart.

“Of course it is!” Davey said, closer to the Race-Spot hybrid now, “There are kids downstairs, what if one of them had come up?”

Race pulled back and Spot whimpered softly.

“They’re all in bed and sleepin’ Davey,” Race said, voice rumbling through him into Spot, “We made sure.”

Spot nodded. “Nobody comes up here ‘sides you guys anyway, maybe Crutchie, and lord knows he needs a hit every now and then-”

Davey gasped and Jack choked out another laugh 

“Well he’s not lying,” Jack said, “And neither is Race, the rest of the kids are in bed anyway.”

Two jerky nods from the ground.

Jack shoved lightly at Davey’s shoulder. “Let them live a little, s’not killing anybody.”

Davey shook his head but didn’t resist Jack pulling him closer. Spot and Race might be a hybrid but those two were like magnets, totally opposite but pulled to each other. Vaguely Spot remembered seeing the two of them like he and Race were now, entwined as one, but it might’ve been a dream.

“I guess,” Davey said, not sounding awfully convinced. 

Jack went in for a kiss and there came the general sound of them going back and forth like they always did. White noise. Like the traffic or the seagulls or the rain.

Warm fingertips were still pressed into Spot’s back, if there were burn marks in their shape in the morning he wouldn’t have been surprised. He hooked a leg around Race’s. “You sleepy Race?”

A muffled ‘yes’ sounded from Race’s lips, and his head bounced up and down, hair brushing at Spot’s ears and getting an involuntary giggle out of him. 

“‘Kay, ‘s go to sleep.”

Neither of them were one hundred percent sure if Davey and Jack were still bickering, or kissing, or on the roof at all for that matter. All they felt was skin pressed against skin and breath mingling with breath until it all faded into nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed!! I live for feedback so please leave comments or kudos if you can
> 
> Also David Jacobs will break down your door if you smoke weed remember that


End file.
